If
by Zombie-sama
Summary: Axel and Demyx go through the cycles of everyday life... BLDemyx x Axel first attempt at fanfiction.
1. Chapter 1

Yeah, okay. This is my first fanfiction... and I don't really read fanfiction. Um... I haven't written in a long time.

Gomen nasai.

* * *

**I. Ready?**

The boys stood in front of their mirror, taming their hairstyles of pseudo rock and roll, and tugging down the oh-so tight black tees that only accentuated their lithe bodies.

Behind them, the faint radio melted into morning to create a comfy backdrop. And with the ribbons of sunlight streaming through the curtains, the pathetic one-bedroom-shit-hole was almost nice.

Axel's stare shifted sideways, mere slits of emerald, wanton and feline.

He certainly looked like a hellion the Organization would spit out, casually eyeing his roommate up and down.

Refusing to assume the position of play toy (as he often imagined himself doing), Demyx quirked his lips into a grin. "I'm borrowing this," and the youth dangles a belt from his grip as he walks out of the closet-sized bathroom.

_If Roxas were here, would probably be upset if I looked at another guy,_ something nagged in Axel's head, but he did anyway.

**II. Set! **

The dirty clouds slurred across the skyline, crooked buildings crisply intruding.

Now Axel padded a few sidewalk squares behind Demyx, just tagging along the return trip from grocery store and lapping up the gracious view like a kitten and his milk. (Thank the Gods for boys in tight pants.)

Unaware of his follower, Demyx whistled his own song, softer eyes sifting through the small city peculiarities, like fresh fruit stands and unemptied trash cans.

Attention having drifted to other things now, Axel paid no mind to where his feet placed themselves, his hand upturned before him and fingers curling. A snap of fire, thin and wavering, was dancing a centimeter above his palm.

He's like a lifetime smoker entertained by a lighter. (Easy to please.)

"Yo, watch it!" a familiar voice complained. Axel realize now that the obstacle he ran into was a person.

Blinking, "Huh?" Then Axel runs his pale fingers though his shock of red mane.

"Axel?" and when Demyx swivels around in a shuffling of grocery bags, Axel watches his lips brim of suppressed curses. They both blushing lightly, embarrassed or something like that.

**III. Go **

Demyx's features scrunched with confusion as he read and re-read the "sheet music" he had scribbled on the back of a receipt. The curves of his sitar rested perfectly on the curves of his legs, which were propped up on the opposite side of the loveseat.

Since the only seat in the house was occupied, Axel sprawled himself comfortably on the kitchen/dining room counter, which was only steps away from the "living room."

_If Roxas were here, he'd play card with me,_ and Axel was drowning himself in nostalgia.

Pretending not to watch his roommate bite his nails, Demyx plucked idly at the strings of his instrument.

They both wondered if they should be scouting for Roxas like their assignment prompted.

Nah.

It was evident to Demyx that Axel wasn't ready to confront his best friend. His best friend that probably wouldn't even recognize him.

Pitching his gaze to the redhead, he undoubtedly confirmed Axel to be sulking. (Lack of catch phrases, stalking his friend to the supermarket and _not_ staying up all night to finish Roxas collages? Yes, Axel was definitely sulking.)

"I'm going to get a shower," then Axel slides into a sitting position on the faux wood.

"Wait-" and Demyx triggers an innocent kiss, pressing himself up against his friend. His hands smoothing against Axel's chest.

On the side table, the one by the door, the wicks of the candles felt warm and the water in the aquarium next to it seemed to quiver.

_If Roxas were here, would he be disappointed?_


	2. Chapter 2

**IV. The Adrenaline**

Charmed and experienced, Demyx slipped his arm around Axel's waist. 

Miraculously able to slide his hands between their closer-than-close bodies, Axel did so, startled eyes bleary and a certain flame beginning to kindle in his chest. When he gripped the thin cloth of Demyx's shirt, the pursuer stifled a moan.

"What the hell, man!?" Axel hissed, shoving his roommate across the tiny room, little effort expelled, and wiping the corner his mouth with his arm. (Hackles raised, little cat!)

"I know I'm not wrong!!" And Demyx frantically waved his hands about, gesturing to Axel's tight pants and effeminate waistline. He gave a meek and apologetic smile as he threw his abashed, sea-green eyes to the floor. There was a weakness in his knees; there were waves of embarrassment crashing against his chest.

The comedy of the moment died down when Axel spun on his heel, stalking out the doorway.

Collapsing back into the chair, Demyx seethed with regret. "Shit… I just wanted him to cheer up." 

**V. Of Racing**

Irritation twisting the features of the young musician, Demyx trudged through downtown, the keys Axel forgot along with his own set jingling in his clamped fists. 

The cobblestone he felt between the thin soles of his Chucks was similar to the discomfort that pressed his temples. (Don't migraines always come at the perfect time?) Rubbing his forehead, he threw himself against a brick wall, eyes clamped and royal defeat washing his soft face raw. In his youth, no -- in his naiveté, Demyx wanted to cry because he didn't know what to do.

Nobodies were incapable of satiating the emptiness that replaced their heart, and it was the mind of a child like Demyx's that came up with a fruitless solution of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. (Well, for the most part.)

Because if a Nobody were to numb their bodies and not just their souls, maybe they could be as lucky as the Heartless.

But back to the plot: Demyx was sure that finding Roxas would be a godsend. Not only would he earn merit with the Organization, he would reimburse Axel for his social faux pas and soothe his own longing for the 13th member. Despite Roxas's whole pseudo-emo attitude, The World That Never Was seemed a lot darker without him.

_If Roxas were here, everything would be okay!_

**VI. Sets Fire**

Ironically, Axel brooded with his back against one of the dock posts. His black and red reflection rippled in the sea, all spunk, hair gel, and spiky bracelets. Except, this water only reminded him of his all-too-recent conflict with roommate Demyx. And he thought running away from the boy would help rip out the uncomfortableness of it. The kiss. The cramped apartment. Demyx. Roxas. Yeah, him. Whatever it was that was bothering him.

Nervous habit, thin digits tousled and ruffled his lion's mane.

So, tearing himself away from the pier, he began to storm back into the shopping district or residential district or he was lost once more! Whirlwinds of hot anger, and "Damn Twilight Town," he growled quietly between his teeth, watching left sneaker after right sneaker after left. Patting the pocket of his jeans, Axel notice he had not only forgotten his way, but his keys.

He clenched his fist, tight like he was holding the flame in it captive as he prowled across town.

It didn't matter; he'd find his way home eventua--

"Axel!" Demyx panted, leaning over with his hands on his knees. He looked up, sea-green eyes grateful and smiling through the short-breathed and flushed-faced weariness. (Axel thought naughty thoughts, but only for a second.)

Of course, Axel stopped, immediately conceding to Demyx's plea. However it was not without a fierce scowl of displeasement and a largely exaggerated "what!?"

Only three hours of confusion and Axel looked completely disheveled. A feral cat wildness in his voice still, edged words like sharp teeth, he adds, "Why did you think you had to come out here? To rescue me or something?"

"You left your keys.." Demyx was soft and his eyes were wet with rejection. (Stray cats need homes, too)

**VII. To My Heart**

To cut the dramatized emotions, Axel's frustration was pacified by the time they reached the apartment door.

Jiggling his key in the lock, Axel shouldered the door and quickly turned the knob, successfully letting himself and Demyx into the apartment. Thinking, when he had slammed the door earlier that day, it must have jammed to lock or something. Now it was going to be a Herculean task just to get in and out of their one-bedroom-shit-hole.

Awkwardness not yet aside in his mind, Demyx flopped onto a suitcase, their make-shift barstool suitcase.

Axel flipped on the light switch, the strange yellow lamp bulb making the peeling floral wallpaper look even worse. The stains on the couch (From what?) and his cold, bare feet on the linoleum mislead him into everyday routines. He walked towards Demyx and folded his legs, crisscross applesauce to sit on the floor.

"No use crying over spilled milk," Axel exhaled. A cup of water in the sink seemed to slosh. (Or maybe that was Demyx's stomach.)

Cracking his knuckles, Axel continued quieter, "Tomorrow, we'll do what little the Organization asked of us. We'll start looking."


End file.
